


To Love in Hell

by Julia_Fractal



Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fallen Angels, Hell, M/M, Obsession, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julia_Fractal/pseuds/Julia_Fractal
Summary: This was originally published on Fanfiction.net in 2004, during one of my first forays into writing fic.
Relationships: Duma/Remiel (The Sandman)
Kudos: 4





	To Love in Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published on Fanfiction.net in 2004, during one of my first forays into writing fic.

* * *

In order to be with my beloved, I willingly took up eternal residence in Hell. How could anyone ask for a more genuine declaration of love?

Yet that has never been enough to move you, my beautiful Duma. Certainly, you love me in return. But it is nothing more than the same angelic love you'd bestow on anything in creation: from Almighty God Himself to the lowliest paramecium. Your love is benevolent yet impersonal, and nothing like the all-consuming passion I feel for you.

Yet sometimes I wonder if you tempt me deliberately. Lounging around in glorious nudity, the key to our domain your only adornment. Then I shake my head and laugh at myself. How could I possibly suspect a fellow angel of such guile? Perhaps the unholy nature of our domain is beginning to affect me. Or maybe this is one last trick Lucifer Morningstar left to distract us from our greater goal -- the transformation of Hell from a realm of meaningless torment into a place of righteous pain and salvation. Certainly these shameful longings cannot be my own. After all, angels are not supposed to entertain doubts, or impure thoughts, or to... fuck. Then again, who would have thought that angels would rule in Hell?

The truth is I love you more than I love the Creator Himself. My bones tremble at the sacrilegious nature of the thought, but my heart cannot deny its truth. After all, I did not accept the role of co-monarch of Hell simply because He commanded me to do so. I accepted because I could not watch you bear the burden alone.

Long ago, a number of our Heavenly siblings took on fleshly form to sample the delights of carnal sin. You had wandered off to contemplate goodness knows what, while I hid behind a cloud bank in the Silver City and watched them with guilty fascination. I was both repulsed and titillated by what I saw, and frankly puzzled as to why any angel would risk the wrath of God for a few moments of fumbling ecstasy.

But now I am beginning to understand. What our fallen kin really sought wasn't merely sex, but Holy Communion. The Son himself taught us that you needed the body to reach the soul. This is my body, this is my blood, and I would willingly offer it all to you if only you would accept it. 

I've spent years wondering what forms we might take were we to encase ourselves in mortal flesh, and finally consummate our desire. Would we be two women, exploring each other's curves and crevices with eager fingers and tongues? A man and a woman, madly copulating as though we planned to populate the face of the Earth? Or two men locked in a sinewy embrace that blocked out all thoughts of Heaven or Hell?

But now I realize that sexes are superfluous to a love like ours. After all, desire does not reside in the loins, but in the mind. I am living proof of that. I want to run my hands over every inch of your perfect body. To pinch your rosy nipples and grip your slender hips, to stroke the smooth, featureless flesh between your thighs until you come undone. I long to bite your neck, lick your ear, feel your legs wrap around me in desperate passion. I want to ignite every nerve in your body with desire. To feel and touch and taste until we both forget where we are and what we are, until we're nothing but a writhing mass of need and flesh. Above all, I want to hear you say my name. Just once, I want you to pay me the homage that not even God Himself has received. 

During the early days of our reign, I often came to you for comfort when the screams became too loud and the homesickness became too much. You would lay my head in your lap and gently stroke my hair, your sapphire blue eyes full of benign kindness and cruel ignorance. Once, you tried to kiss me, and I angrily shoved you away. How could I endure your angelically chaste kisses when I wanted to ravage your lips, swallow your moans into my own mouth and engulf you whole?

So instead I content myself with watching you from afar. Admiring the way your golden hair stirs in the sulfurous breeze, the way your skin glows in the light of the fiery pits. Not even Hell could corrupt your beauty. To this day, your innocence remains as inviolate as your silence. Untainted by time or doubt...

Untouched by me.

**{The End}**

* * *


End file.
